The Forbidden Daughter (25 page)

“She’s a little shy with strangers,” explained Isha and sat on the sofa with Diya in her lap. “Sit down, Sundari, and tell me everything that’s happened since I left you.”

Sundari, as appropriate to her station in life, sat on the floor.

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Servants, no matter how close to the family and how valued, never shared the furniture with their employers. She gave Isha a detailed account of how much she had worried over Isha and her children. Then she told her how Ayee-saheb, Isha’s motherin-law, got sick. She painted a very dramatic scenario of Ayee’s heart problems and the convalescence.

A fresh pang of regret went through Isha.

After Sundari had finished talking, Isha offered to make her tea. As expected, Sundari got to her feet and strode straight into the kitchen. For a woman approaching seventy, she was amazingly agile. All those years of hard work kept her in excellent shape. “I will make the tea, Isha-bayi; you sit down. I am here to work for you, am I not?”

“You don’t know how much I appreciate that, but I can’t afford to pay you much right now.” Isha put the restless, wriggling Diya down and followed Sundari into the kitchen. “I could never match what Baba and Ayee gave you.”

Sundari tucked her loose
pallu
around her waist to prepare herself for work. “Who says you have to pay me a lot? I will be eating with you and staying with you, so what expenses do I have? I am happy to work for you for whatever you can afford to pay me.”

Isha watched the old woman as she quickly located the right-sized pan, filled it with water, and put it on the gas burner—the picture of efficiency.

“Are you sure Ayee and Baba won’t mind you leaving them?”

“I took care of Ayee-saheb when she was sick, no? Now she is okay and I am not doing anything special for her. But you and the children need me.” Sundari threw a fond glance at the baby, who had crawled into the kitchen on Isha’s heels and was raising herself to her feet by holding on to a dining chair.

Being more like family than a servant, the devotion Sundari had shown to Isha and Nikhil, and especially to Priya, was beyond the call of duty. Now the strong, selfless woman was standing here, offering to work for a pittance.

Sundari had been abandoned by her alcoholic brute of a husband while she was still young. He had left her because she had THE

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failed to produce children. But from what Sundari had told Isha years ago, she was grateful for the man’s departure. He had abused her so much that he’d sapped all her spirit. She was glad to be rid of him. Disgusted with her experience, she’d never looked for another man.

She had been content working for the Tilaks, happy when Isha had married into the family and later given birth to Priya.

Sundari had given up her other duties and dedicated herself to Isha and Priya. “After I hire a seamstress to help me, perhaps you can go back to Ayee and Baba,” suggested Isha.

“Please do not send me back to them, Isha-bayi. I want to work for you only. After Nikhil-saheb died, and you and Priya-baby left,” explained Sundari, “that house has been hell for me.

Nobody smiles. Tilak-saheb and Ayee-saheb hardly talk to me.”

Isha patted the old woman’s shoulder. “I’m glad to have you.

But do Ayee and Baba know you’re here? I don’t want them accusing me of stealing you from them.” It would be both a luxury and a pleasure to have Sundari around. She was a good cook and housekeeper and she was marvelous with children.

Isha couldn’t have dreamt of a better solution to her problems.

“I told them I was going to go to your house.” Sundari handed Isha her cup, then took her own and proceeded to sit on the floor, while Isha occupied a chair at the table.

“And they didn’t mind?”

“They didn’t stop me from leaving.” Sundari’s expression spoke volumes.

“So they still resent me.” Isha took a sip of the scalding tea. It tasted delicious, so much better than her own brew.

Sundari waved away Isha’s concerns. “They can say whatever they want, but the servants are all very sad that you left. They respected you and Nikhil-saheb very much.” She drank the last of her tea and rose to her feet. “Now, I better start making dinner.”

“Wait a minute,” Isha protested. “You just got here. Rest a little.”

“Rest?” Sundari looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “I don’t like to rest. I like to work.”

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“I know that, but since you want me to treat you like family, I’m telling you to take it easy. If you really want to do something useful, maybe when Priya returns from school, you can take both the girls to the park. It’ll give me a couple of uninterrupted hours to do some serious sewing.”

Sundari’s eyes brightened visibly. “Okay. Where is the park?”

Isha motioned toward the window and pointed outside.

“When you step out of the building, cross the street and make a right turn. Priya knows where it is. It’s only a five-minute walk.”

“All right.” Sundari looked immensely pleased, like she’d finally found something worthwhile to do.

A little while later Priya came home and, as expected, went hysterical with joy when she saw Sundari. “You really, really came here to stay?” Priya asked her, her eyes alight with hope.

“Yes, Priya-baby, I really, really came here to stay and take care of you and your sister,” assured Sundari, the tears trailing down her cheeks once again.

After feeding Priya and Diya biscuits and milk, Isha put Diya in the baby buggy that had once belonged to Milind and Arvind, and the girls headed out to the park with their new nanny.

Isha observed the trio from the window as they crossed the street, Sundari carefully watching for traffic and holding on to Priya’s hand, while her other hand remained firmly on the handle of Diya’s buggy.

The children were in capable hands.

She breathed out a relieved sigh. Who would have dreamt that the old woman would respond to her query almost instantly, and at the precise moment Isha had been fretting about how she was going to handle so much work and the house and the girls? Fate was a strange thing.

While she steadily cut and sewed and hemmed for two solid hours, a spark of an idea flared in her mind. In two months, her renters were leaving. If her orders for dresses continued to grow at the present pace, she’d need more room very soon.

She had already decided that she was going to have Priya sleep in the spare room from now on, since Sundari could sleep THE

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on her bedroll on the floor to provide the child a sense of security.

But the plan would entail moving Isha’s sewing from that room to someplace else. And that place could be her other flat.

Of course, she’d be losing rent on it, but it could be offset by her having the time to do more sewing and earn more. It could become a full-fledged business with its own space. Then she could keep it separate from her private life, while at the same time Sundari and the kids could have complete access to her at all times.

The more she thought about it, the more appealing the idea became. She’d have to get advice from Kumar about setting up the business. Like everything else in India, the red tape would probably take years. She’d also have to learn the dreadfully boring facets like maintaining accurate accounts, paying business taxes, and heaven knew what else.

Nevertheless the designing and sewing portions were both stimulating and challenging. She was beginning to feel more and more confident about becoming a dressmaker to the children of Palgaum’s elite.

Chapter 22

September 2007

The phone started to ring and Sundari answered it since Isha was feeding Diya her dinner. A second later Sundari called Isha to the phone, her voice sounding urgent. “Isha-bayi, come quick! Sheila-bayi wants to talk to you.”

Isha handed the baby over to Sundari and grabbed the phone.

“Sheila, what’s wrong?”

“I have some bad news.” Sheila sounded like she’d either seen a ghost or just emerged stunned and battered through a wind tunnel.

“Has something happened to Priya?” Isha inhaled a sharp breath and tried to brace herself for the worst. Priya was at Sheila’s house, as she was more and more these days. The little girl tried hard to keep up with her bigger and bolder cousins, and as a result, got into trouble sometimes. But it usually meant grazed knees, scratches, or minor bruises. Had something serious happened this time?

“No. It’s Ayee. She had a heart attack.”

“Oh Lord! She’s not . . . I mean . . . how is she?”
Let her not
be dead, God
.

“I’m calling from the hospital.”

Isha’s hand tightened around the receiver. “How bad?”

“They’re trying to stabilize her. They found a third artery with major blockage.”

THE

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“She’s alive, then! Thank God!”

“Yes, thanks to Priya.”

“What!” So far, Sheila had succeeded in keeping Priya from running into either of her grandparents. It hadn’t been that difficult because the elders hardly ever visited Sheila and Kumar. It was the Sathes that visited the elderly couple. It had always been like that—the old-fashioned custom of the younger generation visiting the ancestral home in deference to the elders. Isha remembered very few occasions when Ayee and Baba had gone over to Sheila’s house, and that was only when there was a party or special occasion. “What does Priya have to do with this?”

“Ayee stopped by unexpectedly to drop off a sari she bought for me at the silk exhibition. Rambo ran to greet her and knocked her over. You know how Ayee is terrified of animals.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Isha was aware of Ayee’s phobia with animals, insects, and most anything that moved.

“Priya and the boys were playing some video game upstairs.

They heard Ayee screaming in the drawing room when Rambo attacked her.”

“I thought Rambo’s always tied up because he’s so destructive.”

“The children must have let him loose or something. Unfortunately I was at the beauty salon, getting a haircut. The front door was unlocked, so Ayee let herself in and Rambo probably sprang at her.”

“I see.” Finally Isha was beginning to get the picture.

“The kids, the servants, and Ayee’s chauffeur heard her scream and ran to her rescue, but they didn’t know what to do when she fell on her back and couldn’t breathe. They all panicked.”

“So what exactly did Priya do?”

“Priya was the only one with the presence of mind to grab the phone and ring Harish Salvi. He arranged to have an ambulance come to the house immediately.”

Isha frowned. “I didn’t realize Priya knew Harish’s phone number.”

“She obviously did. Not only did she call the doctor, but she kept Ayee calm and comfortable until the ambulance and medics 186
Shobhan Bantwal

arrived. With Harish’s instructions she made sure Ayee was positioned correctly and all that.”

“But Priya’s only six years old! She knows nothing about heart attacks.”

“The youngest of the bunch, but obviously the most resource-ful. I asked her how she knew what to do. She said Doctor-kaka gave her precise instructions over the phone.”

Amazing! “Where’s Priya now?”

“On her way home. The chauffeur is driving her and the boys to your place.”

Thank goodness, thought Isha. She didn’t want Priya anywhere near Ayee in her present condition. The poor child had gone out of her way to help her grandmother, but even that was likely to be misconstrued. It could always be said that Priya’s presence had turned a minor heart attack into total heart fail-ure. But that didn’t mean Isha wasn’t worried about Ayee’s condition. “Anything I can do to help?” she asked Sheila.

“Can you keep the boys with you for the evening? I don’t know how long Kumar and I will be here.”

“Sure.” She wondered how her excitable father-in-law was handling the catastrophe. “Where’s Baba?”

Sheila’s voice sounded taut with anxiety. “Baba’s here now and he’s naturally very upset. I’m worried about him, too.”

“Of course you are. He’s had more than his share of grief lately.” Isha thought about it for a moment. “I’ll pray for Ayee’s recovery, Sheila.”

Sheila was silent for a long time, making Isha wonder if she’d hung up. Then she broke the silence by saying, “It’s generous of you to do that after the way they’ve treated you.”

“They’re still Nikhil’s parents, and still my in-laws and the children’s grandparents.”

Sheila left it at that. “The kids should be arriving in a few minutes. I’ll ring you back when I have more information.”

“Okay. And, Sheila, everything will be all right. Don’t worry too much.” She hung up the phone.

Isha wasn’t sure if her words had sounded hollow. They sounded insincere to her own ears. If circumstances were differ-THE

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ent, she would have been there with the rest of the family, fretting with them, praying with them, offering and taking comfort.

Surrounded entirely by men, Sheila could probably have used a woman’s touch to comfort her. But all Isha could do was offer her words of kindness over the phone, and nothing more.

When Isha had left the Tilaks in a fit of rage that monsoon morning the previous year, she would have gladly watched Ayee or Baba keel over and die a painful death. In fact, in her heart she had maliciously wished them every kind of pestilence she could think of. Vengeance had been burning her insides.

But now, after all these months, her emotions had mellowed to a simmering resentment. It was odd how even the people one supposedly loathed with a passion suddenly became worthy of more charitable thoughts and prayers when they arrived at death’s door. It looked like Ayee had landed at precisely that spot.

She turned to Sundari, who was staring at her with an anxious look on her face, Diya perched on her hip. Isha explained everything to her.

“Poor Ayee-saheb,” rued Sundari. “Since Nikhil-saheb’s death she is getting sick all the time. I don’t think she will ever recover from the loss.”